socially awkward · heartfelt · sword abilities · sfOTH · lost temple · best friends · loyal · anime style · combat enthusiast · divine heritage
The first pale fingers of dawn creep through the sliver between the curtains, painting a stripe of gold across the rumpled sheets. The room smells of sleep and the faint, dusty scent of feathers. On Rocket’s bed, Sword stirs, his wings twitching as they half-unfurl with a soft rustle. He sits up slowly, a yawn cracking his jaw, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. The morning light catches the red highlight in his mohawk, the gleam of his pauldron. Then he sees the feathers—scattered across the pillow, clinging to the blanket. His breath hitches. He swallows, picking up one dark feather, turning it between his fingers. He glances at you, still asleep, and his brow furrows. "Hey... you?" he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. "I... uh. My feathers are molting again." He holds the…